


The Queen of the road

by wibblywobblybowtie



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), M/M, The Bentley POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-07-19 13:56:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19975189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wibblywobblybowtie/pseuds/wibblywobblybowtie
Summary: A story from the point of view of the Bentley, looking at the way the relationship between Crowley x Aziraphale develops





	The Queen of the road

**Author's Note:**

> Hiya! Really felt like writing these two again. They're so lovely :)

The Bentley honestly couldn’t be happier. It had an owner, who, despite being a demon, was actually surprisingly loving, and an endless supply of Queen music. The demon took great care of the car. It got to such a level, that the Bentley thought it must be the thing the demon loved most in the world. (It didn’t know about the plants, obviously.) However, this changed, one summer day, somewhere in the nineteen thirties. Crowley had been driving around London rather aimlessly, before finally stopping in front of a bookstore. The Bently had never been so puzzled in it’s life. A bookstore? Crowley? That didn’t make any sense whatsoever. And it got even weirder. He came outside with a friend. A friend. Crowley had a friend. Or, something like that.  
The Bentley had heard his demon talk about some angel that was bothering the demon somehow. It always sounded both unkind and affectionate at the same time. The Bentley had never imagined that it might actually meet said angel.  
Crowley stepped in again, Aziraphale coming in on the passenger side.  
‘This car is beautiful, Crowley.’ Aziraphale said.  
‘Thanks, angel.’ Crowley replied curtly.  
The Bentley didn’t have too much time to wonder if Crowley’s use of ‘angel’ was meant literally or lovingly, because Crowley sped off across the street. Either way, it seemed amazingly fitting.

They didn’t meet again until the Blitz. The Bentley could not understand why the demon would drive through the center of London in the middle of the Blitz. That just didn’t seem reasonable. Although, some might reason that everything might be unreasonable if some things were ineffable. Anyway.  
The Bentley was parked close to a church. A church? By now it realised that it must be the angel again. Who or what else would Crowley literally burn his feet for?  
It’s suspicion was confirmed when both angel and demon appeared in the ruins of a bombed church. Something Crowley had either done or said had rendered the angel speechless, with a stupidly big smile. ‘Oh God.’ The Bentley had thought, before correcting itself, ‘Oh Queen. They’re in love.’

Again, the Bentley was spot on, and got this confirmed yet again in the 60’s. His owner had been after some holy water, and had even gone so far as to look into stealing some from a church. Luckily, his angel had provided him with a thermos full of it. The pained look on his face when giving it, the reassuring and loving glance Crowley returned. Crowley in turn invited the angel to go somewhere with him, to go out for dinner, or a picnic. When the angel didn’t reply, the demon quickly added that he could just drop him off. Anywhere.  
The answer the angel gave spoke more than a thousand words, despite only being 7 words long:  
‘You go too fast for me, Crowley.’ he said. The Bentley could see the apologies and vulnerabilities firing from his face.  
Crowley didn’t know how to reply, and as the angel stepped outside, the Bentley could almost hear his demon pondering. Had the angel just confessed his love? Whilst also confirming that things were going to fast? They’d been friends for ages, for Queen’s sake. The Bentley didn’t know how long, but judging by the familiarity around the two, it guessed at least a hundred years. How could that be too fast? Then again, they didn’t meet frequently, and with such a long lifespan, that isn’t too long. Still…  
Sensing Crowley’s confliction on this exact topic, the Bentley decided to play some consoling Queen music. That should cheer him up.

The next few years, the amount of trips to the central park in London grew exponentially. From its parking place, the Bentley could see the two celestial beings meet. They’d talk for ages, feed the ducks, and eat ice cream. Crowley’s mood really improved after a meeting with his angel. Instead of only glomily staring, he’d sometimes even bop his head along to the music. The Bentley decided this was a very good change of tone, so hoped that these meetings would keep coming as often as possible.

At one point, they spent the whole of 11 years at the same place. Crowley had become a nanny, Aziraphale a gardener. It worked perfectly. They were all happy, and the Bentley was glad that his driver was happy. It knew this couldn’t last forever though.

They were sitting in the Bentley when they found out they had wasted the last 11 years of their lives mentoring the wrong kid. They had to find the correct child now. But apparently, they didn’t want to do this together. This was one of the most unpleasant times for the Bentley. Crowley was grumpy all the time, regularly racing by Aziraphale’s bookstore, through the busy London traffic, to do an attempt at getting closer to the angel, before being sent off yet again.  
It got to its absolute worst when they arrived at the burning bookstore. Crowley had run into the bookstore, parking the Bentley awfully close to the fire. Way too close for the Bentley’s liking. Way too close.  
Luckily, he ran out of the story soon after, a book in his arm. This was the only positive thing to mention about that current situation though. It appeared that Aziraphale might have died or disappeared, which was the worst case scenario for the demon who loved him (and the Bentley who’d have to deal with is grouching).  
Crowley roughly (and annoyingly, to the Bentley) drove to a random London cafe, before sitting down and sulking at the table.  
Through the mirror the car could see that miraculously, and so completely fitting for the angel, Aziraphale had showed up! He was only there in spirit, yes, but he was there. He was alive. It was going to be okay. The angel had instructed Crowley to go to lower Tadfield. To stop Armageddon. To save the world.  
Of course Crowley listened. The Bentley first thought this was the best thing, as this put Crowley in a more positive, trying-to-achieve-something mood, but it turned out to be disastrous. Crowley would try to achieve something, whatever the cost. Even if the cost was his beloved Bentley. So, he drove past and through the traffic, scratching the Bentley left and right. It was only the paint, so it didn’t particularly hurt the Bentley, it just did NOT feel comfortable. The worst, however, was yet to come.  
Because, the M25 was burning. They had to cross the M25. Any sensible person would just not go, try to fly over, burrow under, or bring a big fire hose. Crowley did none of those things.  
Determined to help his angel, he just drove. Through the fire. Crowley being a demon, and this being a demonic fire, this was fine. The Bentley however, was less fine. It was literally burning. With actual, hot, melting, fire. It was a miracle that the tar of the road hadn’t melted yet.  
Even in its worst nightmares, the Bentley had not imagined this. It was horrible. And when they finally got out of the fire, Crowley didn’t even stop to put out the fire. He just drove. And drove, and drove until they arrived at the airbase in lower Tadfield.  
There they nearly drove into an old man, who was standing next to an older woman, who smelled oddly familiar. Crowley got to jump out of the car, and escaped the flame that were still burning up the car.  
The car itself did not have this luxury. It couldn’t just escape itself, however much it tried. So there it stood. Burning. Dying.  
The woman turned out to be Aziraphale. Of course. Aziraphale tried to get Crowley to hurry, but Crowley couldn’t. His beloved Bentley was burning.  
He said his goodbye. The Bentley was touched, and quite content with it’s life, including the flaming ending.  
There, just minutes before Armageddon, it collapsed. 

The Bentley had always known how the afterlife worked. Of course it had. It’s owner had been a demon. It did not know, that this version of reality somehow included reincarnation. Because there it was. Standing on the street, next to Crowley’s flat. It was a beautiful sunny morning, probably the day after the supposed Armageddon.  
And there Crowley came, smiling, walking out of his flat. The Bentley saw him from a distance, but something seemed off. The way he walked, the way he smelled, the way his face showed emotions. This weirdness was even more confirmed when he took a cab. A cab!? When the Bentley was standing so nearby? This couldn’t be? Was it invisible? Could Crowley not see him? Had they brainwashed Crowley? Sitting there, full of doubt, the Bentley waited.  
At sundown, it got it’s answer. Crowley and Aziraphale were walking arm in arm, through the streets. When Crowley spotted the car, he quickly walked towards it, pulling Aziraphale along.  
‘Hiya!’ Crowley said happily. ‘Good to see you back!’  
The Bentley had never been more puzzled. Crowley was back to normal again, though he wasn’t the same. He was lighter, happier, more carefree. So was Aziraphale. They both seemed the happiest they had ever been.  
After that brief moment of meeting, the couple walked off again, arm in arm, off into the distance. 

What had happened to Crowley that morning, the Bentley would never know. What it did know, was that it never happened again.  
What did happen a lot, were road trips. Now Crowley and Aziraphale didn’t seem to have any celestial tasks, they went everywhere. They’d go to book fairs all over the world, acquiring the most pristine and unique books, enjoy picnics in all kinds of environments, and dine in the most exquisite restaurants on the planet.  
The best days were the ones where they would drive all through the night, guided by the stars that the driver himself had put there once. Aziraphale would rest his head on Crowley’s shoulder, hold his hand, and turn on some beautiful music. It wouldn’t get any better. Right?

**Author's Note:**

> Really hope you liked it, I'd love to hear what you think!


End file.
